Concrete Bayou

By Bridgett McGill

Trafficked or Triumphant?

In ancient times, King Xerxes ruled the powerful Persian Empire and chose his wives from the most beautiful virgins in the kingdom. The young maidens lived in the palace harem, then moved to concubine quarters once th

• Language: English
• Publisher: The Queen Within LLC
• Release date: Nov 28, 2023
• ISBN: 9781736783061

Bridgett McGill

Bridgett McGill is the award-winning author of "How Does Your Garden Grow? Cultivating a Life of Abundance." Concrete Bayou is her second fiction work.

Book preview

PROLOGUE

N ow, why do you want to mess up a good thing? The tall, well-dressed man pretended to pout. Haven't I been good to you these eight years, Ms. Margaret?

Yes, you have Vik. You're the reason I'm able to retire at sixty-two instead of sixty-five and for that, I thank you.

The pudgy woman unhooked the rhinestone clasp that held together a soft pink jacket with the matching skirt; her off-white camisole exposing a plump belly. She then offered a manila envelope and placed the one he gave her inside her open purse.

And my condolences to you for losing your husband. He nodded towards her, lightly touching his chest.

Thank you so very much. I wish I could say that I miss him, truth is the only thing I won’t miss is him always hounding me for extra money to pay his gambling debts. She shrugged, leaning against the black marble desk. Her guest let out a slight chuckle.

I know why you’re making that face. And as always, I thank you for the extras you gave me when I needed to bail him out. But such is life and we’re moving on. His smile remained in agreement with her statement.

Here are the last three girls that you might be interested in. They're right here in the city, easy to get to, no helicopter parents.

Margaret settled in the chair next to Vik, crossing her legs at the ankles as she leaned towards him. Vik you've been at this, what, ten years now? How much longer are you going to run the Bayou? You've been the President of the Towers for twelve years. I've been hearing the higher-ups are looking to promote you because of your successful track record.

Viktor Batista smiled and the features of his dangerously handsome face took on a pleasant edge. We'll see. I have my sights set on seats at some bigger tables, but you know my love for Bayou is something special.

The older woman laughed as she relaxed against the back of the chair, causing Viktor’s expression to darken. Selling ass is what you consider special, hunh?

 "What I sell put both of your children through college, and what did you just say? He stood and placed the envelope in his briefcase and turned towards the door to leave. 

You’re retiring three years earlier than planned and all of your beloved husband’s business, shall we say, was always taken care of. So let's not laugh now.

Margaret didn't move her head as she spoke. All things good or bad at some point must come to an end. Her heavy laughter followed as he swept from her office. 

Mrs. Margaret Wilkerson had been working for the Department of Social Services for twenty-seven years and held the director’s position for the past ten. Her partnership with Vik had not only covered her children’s expenses, but most of her recently deceased husband’s gambling losses. She and Viktor Batista met at a political function held by the previous Mayor.

After eavesdropping on a conversation between Viktor and a local alderman regarding setting up a date at the Bayou, she scheduled a meeting with him. After hinting that she knew of the Alderman’s reputation for spending time with escorts, she made him an offer he couldn't refuse; direct access to girls who came across her desk that were in some form of crisis. The rest was history. Besides basic information, she supplied information that helped manipulate their young minds. The girls were run-aways, orphans, revolving in foster care or in counseling because of trouble with their parents. Viktor preferred getting girls this way since it was easy to take them ‘off the grid.’ Most times, no one would look for them. And when someone did, he had police in his pocket that could make them go away.

The girls were easy to convince that his way was a better situation. It was also less risky than the ‘guerilla pimping’ method that he started with ten years ago. With Wilkerson’s retirement, the easy access cord was being snipped. He was going to miss the cord more than he missed the pesty woman and her loud perfume.

Vik let out a sigh and smoothed the front of his blazer as he stepped into the underground parking garage. There was always demand in the bayou for one more girl. He simply needed a new plan.

CHAPTER 1

W here am I? Open this damn door. An unfamiliar girl’s voice echoed around Hadassah Colton’s head. Loud thuds pounded against a four-inch steel door. Let me out. The swirling dust on the floor caused Hadassah’s eyes to blink several times as she struggled to see more clearly. Her cheek was cold against the concrete that smelled like sweat and urine. The stabbing pain in her neck kept her slightly off kilter as she slowly moved her left hand to her face, rubbing lips so dry they were cracked and painful. She scanned for something familiar and came up empty. A tall, thin girl with an ivory complexion was still screaming, beating and kicking the door, to no avail.

Hadassah’s ears perked up at a noise from the other side of the room. Her eyes landed on the parts of the room she could see from her position trying to locate the sound. Her gaze shifted to a young woman nestled in a corner, with her arms wrapped around the knees pulled into her chest. The second girl was brown-skinned and wearing shorts and a blue top, she was sitting on a thin soiled blanket.

Hadassah’s mind raced, trying to recreate the movements that landed her here. Why was she on the floor in a strange place, in throbbing pain? She tried to lift her head, but the gripping ache on the right side of her neck signaled that wasn’t a good move.

Wake up everybody, wake up. We have to get out of here. The girl banging on the door had now turned to face the other two people in the room. She was pleading with them through tears coming down so fast, she couldn’t possibly see anything. Maybe she wanted them to help her beat against the door, but Hadassah was in no mood to be loud.

Where are we? Hadassah asked.

The brown-skinned girl, in the corner, lifted her head to speak. I’ve been here for two days now, she replied in a soft, cracking voice. I don’t know where I am or how I got here. Nobody has come to the door or anything.

The girl standing briefly turned to the brown-skinned girl with outstretched hands. You haven’t had nothing to eat or drink?

No. she sat up straighter. I haven’t had food or water and I’ve been using the bathroom in those buckets. She pointed to two five-gallon white paint buckets in one corner.

She rubbed the right side of her neck where Hadassah currently felt a burning ache, and my neck hurts like hell.

How long have I been out? Hadassah mumbled. The girl at the door plopped down suddenly and leaned against the cinderblock wall, extending her legs, and reached for her neck. I don’t have a clue about anything and my neck hurts, too.

The brown girl crawled over to Hadassah and gently shook her. Hey, you okay? I see your eyes open, but you haven’t been moving for a whole day. She stroked a hand across Hadassah’s forehead. I woke up one night, and you were suddenly here. Hadassah was now determined to be stronger than the throbbing she felt in her neck. Even though her body still felt lethargic, her thoughts kicked in as she processed her circumstances and what the others had to say.

The darker girl helped her sit up and the other one moved over to them. They all tried to comfort each other as they searched for signs of something that could provide them with answers. The steel grey door had no knob or lock on the inside. The light above them was dim and provided just enough light for them to make out each other’s faces. The room must have been an old storage closet with a few cabinets on the walls, a mop and broom was in one of the corners and the floor was covered with dust. The room smelled of piss and fear.

Hadassah took their hands in hers. Let’s try to think about what happened before we got here.

The girl with the lighter complexion spoke first, I’m Shayla. All I can remember is last night I threw on these pajama pants and a t-shirt. I went to the corner store to get some pops for me and my grandma. Then I ended up in here. Hadassah turned to her as she was motioning towards a set of Mickey Mouse pajamas. It’s so hard to remember what happened.

She turned to Hadassah, who could finally sit. I’m Hadassah. Yesterday was my eighteenth birthday. Me and my family was out at the park having a party. I went to the fieldhouse to use the bathroom. I think I remember an old lady being in the bathroom and I asked her if she needed help, but she didn’t say anything. On my way out of the bathroom, this guy was by the door and said he was looking for his mother, I turned to walk back in the bathroom and that’s the last thing I remember. She was still wearing a pink t-shirt, decorated with the number eighteen in sequins, matching pink leggings and white gym shoes. Hadassah thought of her granny helping her pick out the outfit, saying the color pink would complement her deep ebony skin.

Shayla and Hadassah both turned to the remaining girl.

Wow, something like that happened to me. She spoke in a heavy whisper. Hadassah wondered where the girl had been, dressed in shorts and a t-shirt with a white logo.

"I was at dance practice and ran to the candy truck to get some water for me and the other girls, then I ended up here. There was a guy behind me telling the lady in the truck to hurry up and move the line so he could go. He was really annoyed; he’s the last person I can remember talking.

They all touched their necks within seconds of each other.

So y’all necks are hurting like mine? Shayla asked. You mean to tell me we were snatched in broad daylight and nobody at all tried to help us?

Then Shayla stood with one hand on her forehead and the other hand on her stomach. Her voice was now raspy.

So wait, is this like when people be on social media talking about people drugging girls and snatching them off the street and stuff?

Before Hadassah could respond, Shayla ran to the door, kicking it with all her might. The other girl jumped to her feet and yanked her away. Hadassah could not move because of the drugs she had been given, forcing her to remain in place.

Hey, be quiet. She warned. If we have any chance of getting out of here, we can't be making all this noise. There are no windows, no doorknobs, no nothing, so we gotta just wait to see what's going on.

Shayla turned in the other girls’ direction. Her tear-stained face and puffy red eyes were a match to how Hadassah felt. What the hell are you talking about, umm? What’s your name?

Brittany.

Well Brittany, in case you haven’t figured it out yet, we’ve been kidnapped and it might be sex trafficking.

She screamed even louder and beat on the door with her fist.

Confusion and fear battled for the lead in Hadassah’s mind at hearing Shayla’s words, confirming the worst. She struggled to her feet, tried to get her bearings, stepped over to Shayla, leaning against the wall next to the door for support.

She’s right. We don’t know what’s going on. We’re trapped in this room with this dim light, no windows, and no way out." Hadassah rubbed her hands up and down her arms. Although it was summer outside, the room had a damp coolness